sible connection with the story, and is dragged in in the vain effort to give it strength. The fascinating and triply-beloved hero is again of the fresh, boyish type, indicating a masculine authorship, though the indication is contradicted by one or two tirades against the present status of women.

There come next under notice two novels, both American, A Knight of the Black Forest1 and Trajan. The first of these has already been published as a magazine serial. It has not, perhaps, as much feeling nor as much of a story as many inferior ones; but it has that quality, difficult to describe, that insures admission to the pages of the critical magazines, and sets it apart from such books as those we have been noticing. It has a carefully wrought out situation and characters of its own; it abounds in a light picturesqueness; in short, it would be fair to say it has the technique of story-writing well in hand. Its author had previously put forth one novelette that was noticeably good for a first one. We hardly suppose that any one will really care much for this little study of German and American flirtation; but it shows a commendable regard for method, is in the manner of the time, and is properly to be counted a success for the writer, and a step to an assured position of profitable authorship. So mighty is the mastering of one's handicraft in a workmanlike way! In novelwriting, one is really out of the lists until he has done this; and yet the popular impression is that novel-writing "comes by nature." "Trajan" is the most ambitious story of the summer. Its publishers have done it one good turn by launching it with such trumpeting that the critic is necessarily prejudiced against it, and suffers a reaction of friendliness upon discovering that it is really much better than he would have expected from the transparently commercial eulogies that accompanied it. This is a subtlety in advertising tactics worth the consideration of publishers. Laying aside all prepossessions or reactions, however, it may be said that "Trajan" is an

1 A Knight of the Black Forest. By Grace Denio Litchfield, New York: Putnam's Sons.

2 Trajan: The Story of a Sentimental Young Man. By Henry Keenan. New York: Cassell & Co. 1885.

interesting novel, showing much serious work, many excellent possibilities, and a decided falling short of its own intentions. It has a flavor of Julian Hawthorne, much in the same way that that ingenious writer himself perpetually has a decided flavor of greater ones. The author undoubtedly has ability; but he has undertaken more than he could manage in "Trajan." "The MoneyMakers," published anonymously, is accepted as his; and the same hand seems pretty evident in the two: the mixture of ability and inefficiency, the womanish qualities, the very language. In "The Money-Makers" there was at the best a good deal more strength, and there was throughout a better style (save for the French-phrase vice): as this book was doubtless later written, there is an encouragement herein; and that its weak points are weaker than anything in "Trajan ” is doubtless due to more hasty writing. But there are weak points enough in "Trajan.” It is melodramatic, yet a little tedious. The writer stops to "moralize" a little here and there, and a little is too much, because the moralizing is not profound and does not justify itself. It would better have been all cut out, with the exception of about a dozen sentences. The conversation, too, when it tries to be playful, is rather heavy humor; and when it tries to be witty, is rather pointless repartee. The love-making is for the most part weak. The canvas is unnecessarily crowded with figures, and some unnecessary incident comes in. The melodramatic character of the main narrative, which winds its way through all these obstructions, is sufficient to redeem the book on the whole from heaviness, and would have made it, properly pruned, powerfulpowerful in a way hardly to be approved by a stern critic, for, as we have said, it is melodrama: yet we are not prepared to condemn any work of art, story or music or acting, that really stirs human emotion, because the emotion is stirred by exaggerations and broad pathos that are not in the best taste. No one is a greater sinner in this respect than Dickens; and the reading world has always pardoned him. The reason that even if

Mr. Keenan had succeeded in making his story powerful, he would not have been pardoned the same fault, is that there is something especially feminine in the emotions to which he appeals. "Trajan" is another attempt, and a very nearly successful one, at the man whom women love; and by making him frankly and sentimentally heroic his author has come much nearer to making his feminine heart stir responsively in reading of him than it will do in reading of the pretty lads who fill the rôle in such books as "Timias Terrystone." Here is an interesting literary point, that deserves further attention. Put out of consideration all analytic novels, in which life is carefully studied, and take only those in which the author has depended chiefly on his own imagination for his characters, obviously making his hero or heroine according to his secret ideals. In the great majority of such books by women, the man before whom the female heart bows will be found to be either past youth, or mature for his age; possessed of a certain dominance, resolution, and dignity of character variously expressed. With some exceptions in favor of romantic wickedness, due never to weakness, but to distorted circumstance, throwing the character out of harmony with its own instincts, the preference is for romantic goodness, heroic and very sentimental. The heroine in such novels is usually the writer's self, and has no special objective personality, being mainly a mere embodiment of her emotions toward the hero. In books of the same grade by men, the man beloved of women is the gallant, impulsive, fickle boy, fair of face, impressionable of heart; and the heroine is a mere abstraction of gentleness, innocence, loyal affection, unselfishness, and so on. Now "Trajan" is not mature, and is not dominant except in emergencies, but he has the romantically good rôle, and does it pretty well; and he would have done it still better if the author had been willing to waive good taste and let himself go to any extreme in this line. He faces wild bulls in the defense of ladies, rescues ungrateful friends from dungeons and from deaths by giving himself up to the same, all while un

der insult and misappreciation from his beneficiaries, and this with the silence, dignity, and sweetness that are appropriate to martyrs. Martyrdom has stirred hero-worship for many ages, and has today so appreciable a value in winning a following that it is considered an excellent political card; yet there is no denying that it is not regarded good taste any longer-perhaps because the discovery of its political value has led to a vulgarization that has spoiled it for literary purposes. Mr. Keenan is aware of this, and puts his hero into the martyr rôle apologetically: adds to his name as sub-title "The Story of a Sentimental Young Man"; tells his exploits with affected derision as "absurd," romantic," "crazy." But he likes it, nevertheless, and has a real affection for the sentimental young man. The place is Paris and its neighborhood, and the time the period of the Franco-Prussian war, and the German invasion; and the final scenes in Paris give abundant opportunity for all the adventures the plot demands.

Last of all come in by far the best two novels of the summer: Within the Capes1 and A Marsh Island. Both of these books are of the sort that makes it seem so easy a thing to tell a simple, straight-forward story and make it life-like and interesting that it is unaccountable people should strain and fail so. Within the Capes is conventional enough in its outline: a young sailor, returning to his native Quaker village and there falling in love; more sea-voyaging, shipwreck, lone island, rescue, murder trial, and halcyon ending. Yet these conventional outlines are filled in with the freshest and most winning of detail and manner; nothing is strained, nothing crude, not a false note touched. The style is almost quaintly simple: the writer has helped his own imagination in rendering it so by making it the autobiographical narrative of Tom Granger, told in his old age, in the third person, with occasional quaint lapses, as though unconsciously, into

1 Within the Capes. By Howard Pyle. New York: cisco by A. L. Bancroft & Co. Charles Scribner's Sons. 1885. For sale in San Fran

2 A Marsh Island. By Sarah Orne Jewett. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 1885. For sale in San Francisco by Chilion Beach.

the first, so as to reveal Captain Granger himself as the narrator yet without having to explain that he is. Thus the gentle simplicity of speech of a good old Quaker seafarer is attained, without the usual drawbacks of the autobiographical form. Tom Granger is a very fine fellow, and the reader becomes aware of it without getting any unpleasant impression that Granger himself thinks so. The Quaker village is charmingly lifelike, and its people are no lay figures, but living and worthy men and women-except the rival lover, who is rather conventional. The time is 1812 and a few years thereafter, and the old-fashioned flavor of the story is appropriate, not only to the supposed venerable years of the narrator, but to the period. This is the sort of story that the true "summer novel" should be it is light, and by no means a great novel; but it is a very pretty, pleasant, and gentlemanly one, and we hope to see others from the same hand.

In even a higher degree, Miss Jewett's new story has the grace of restraint, perfect simplicity and directness, and the best of breeding in matter and manner. But this comment

and most other such that could be made, are merely repeating what every one knows already of Miss Jewett's invariable traits as a writer. Her style may be called well-nigh perfect. This particular story is perhaps less delightful than "A Country Doctor," yet that is more because the subject is less notably happy than anything else. There is not much story, but one does not want much story in Miss Jewett's books; they are transcripts of bits of life, not regularly constructed novels with plot and machinery. The very fields, and sea, and farming folk are in them. They do not pretend to go as deeply into human nature, nor to be as minutely or vividly true to it as some novels; but in its own way the characterization is perfect. They are like a painter's outdoor studies. Wonderfully uniform they are, too: in this latest one, neither falling away from the mark of previous achievement, nor improving upon it, is visible. In work so perfect

in its own way, perhaps nothing of the sort is to be expected. The idyl is Miss Jewett's line, and tragedies and dramas and the like are not to be sought among her quiet and fragrant fields.

THE trustees of Mills Seminary send us the schedule of the revised course of study of the school. The significance of the revision lies in the intention of making the institution a girls' college, on the plan of Vassar, Smith, or Wellesley. The step in this direction taken at present is indicated in the schedule of studies now before us by the division of the work into three departments, a "Preparatory," a "Seminary," one course of which gives the regular preparation for college, and a Collegiate," which approximates the traditional college course required for the baccalaureate degree. It retains some of the features of a girl's seminary, chiefly by electives in music and art, and Latin and Greek are electives after the Freshman year; but the ground laid out in mathematics, and in the classics including electives, is equal to that usually required for the A. B. degree. No announcement is made of any intention to give the degree, but we are told that this is at least the ultimate intention.

THE proposal to establish a "female" college in California is an interesting one. There is much to be said, pro and con, as to the whole institution of girls' colleges. The propriety of giving to such women as wish it the opportunity to study the subjects included in a college course may be assumed as granted: but whether this should be done in separate institutions, in separate departments of boys' institutions, or in the same classes with boys, is a more complex question. It is probable that the "annex system of England and of Cambridge, Massachusetts, is the most convenient solution for the present, whether the best for the future or not: for the reason that it is open to neither of the serious objections which balance against each other in the case of coeducation versus separate education. These two objections are: that full coeducation is against the conservative feeling of a large part of the community, and, although experience has not as yet shown that this timidity is well founded, it still exists, and will

long continue to deprive of higher education many girls who would otherwise receive it; and on the other hand, it has so far proved impossible to secure in an exclusively female college quite as high a grade as in the men's colleges of the same sections. For many years yet, and possibly for generations, girls' classes need to be constantly brought to the test of the examinations and examiners provided for men. The best standard yet attained by a girls' college is probably that of Smith's, and the most stanch believer in the feminine brain must admit that this has been due to Smith's having kept itself held as closely as was possible to masculine standards, and having avoided too much feminine influence in direction and instruction. Whatever equality with men in thorough and efficient intellectual work experiment may show to exist latent in women, it is certain that it is by no means as yet developed generally enough to give grounds for expecting any girls' college, for many years to come, to be really up to the standard of a boys' college of the same standing. Coeducation undoubtedly forces the girl to come to the masculine standard of work, and under its influence she is found by experiment to develop with ease an ability to do so but this is precisely what a large portion of the educated community do not wish for her; for many who are perfectly willing that women should learn the same facts that men learn in college, do not like them to learn to use the mind in the way that educated men use it, to acquire the same mental habit and tone of thought. Again, the social intercourse of coeducation is a stumbling block to many; and the fortunate experience so far had by coeducational colleges is not accepted as convincing. it absolutely so: the girls who furnished the experiment have so far been to a certain extent (though far less than might be supposed) a “picked lot.” Undoubtedly, the system requires a certain amount of good sense and of care in its administration, and one cannot be always certain that this will be used.

Nor is

Yet the convenient annex system, which avoids the difficulties of both the others, is only possible where a large and rich college exists. It requires a larger aggregation of money than either of the others : for while it really costs less than separate institutions, it is always easier to get two small endowments than one good one. Therefore, we are for the most part thrown back upon having both coeducational privileges at boys' colleges, and separate girls' colleges to meet the needs of young women. Moreover, it is possible that there will always be some girls intellectually capable of the higher education, but better off in a girls' college than a common one. It may be that in a properly arranged system of coeducation all this class of girls would acquire that discretion and dignity which others take there with them (every coeducational college can show instances of this); or it may be that they will always constitute a reason for the existence of the two methods. That both should be in practice in California, would seem de

sirable. In case there prove to be any considerable number of girls in our State willing to undertake the labor of a college education, whose parents are unwilling to send them to Berkeley, and unable or unwilling to send them to an Eastern girls' college, such an institution is much needed here. The success of the present move toward creating one must depend absolutely on how far the seminary idea is frankly cut loose from, and a sound college standard established; and whether this is done or not will depend primar ily upon the man who may be secured for president, and secondarily upon the adequacy of the endow ment.

:

Solomon and the Queen of Sheba. THE Queen of Sheba,- -so the records run, Heard of the wisdom of King Solomon ; And came to see the greatness of the King, And prove his knowledge by hard questioning. A gorgeous retinue the Queen could boast, Worthy alike of visitor and host :Long trains of camels bearing precious spice, And gold, and jewels of unheard of price.— Such lavish bounty and such proud display, The kingdom had not seen before that day :— A splendor fitted to afford surprise E'en to a king so mighty and so wise. And she, the leader of this sumptuous state, With beauty radiant and with youth elate— No lovelier sight had ever monarch viewed ; A vision of enchanting womanhood !— Nor is it just or adequate to say That in her beauty all attraction lay: Endowed she was with strong and well-poised mind, Fit to confute the wisest of mankind. Accomplished in all learning, and to it Was added woman's tact and ready wit.

Proud of her knowledge with all skill prepared,
The Queen essays a task none other dared-
To find by trial if great Solomon
Justly deserved the glory he had won.
So she with learning and consummate art,
Communes with him of all that's in her heart;
She puts him to the proof by every test
Judgment would dictate or caprice suggest ;
Sometimes with questioning of grave import,
Sometimes with trifling and in merry sport.

Had she considered, she could scarce expect
To gain a triumph of the intellect,
Since much of his accomplishment, but few
Would doubt, to his domestic life was due.
How could one woman hope success to gain
O'er him who had a thousand in his train ?—
Seven hundred wives, and some three hundred yet,
Who, so to speak, claimed title by brevet.
He who so much anxiety endured,
Must be to every artifice inured;
Must learn to make to each the fit reply;
Know how much to admit and what deny;

Who if he erred would sure the error know,
With seven hundred times, "I told you so!"
No wonder Solomon, compelled to dodge

A fire of questions, wisely formed "The Lodge,"1
Which in all after time excuse affords,
When wives interrogate belated lords.
He who so oft was called on to discrimin
Ate in the strifes of seven hundred women,
Was not the man to find his wits undone
By artifice, however shrewd, of one.

So when, without evasion or delay,
The King due answer makes to the array
Of searching queries which the Queen propounds,
His court with joyous plaudits long resounds.
The baffled Queen, with quick invention, tries
How she may yet some stratagem devise,
By which the wary monarch may be caught,
And his much vaunted wisdom set at naught.
The King was seated in his judgment hall,
And in his presence were assembled all
That splendid court whose dazzling glories shine
Through the dim years, from wondrous Palestine.
Before this brilliant throng, the Queen, alone,
Approached the monarch on his ivory throne;
Nor comes too near, but at good distance stands,
Holding two wreaths upon her outstretched

hands

Two wreaths of flowers, alike in every part,
One those of nature, one prepared by art.
The last though formed of tinsel and of wax,
No point of likeness to the other lacks;
So deftly wrought, that never human eye
Could the least difference 'twixt the two descry.
The Queen, when she her due obeisance made,
With air of triumph to the monarch said:
"In thy great wisdom, tell me now, O King,
Which flowers are nature's, which art's, fashion-
ing!"

The King observed the flowers, and yet again
Looked for some clew to guide him, but in vain ;
Still as the wreaths he studied o'er and o'er,
Their perfect semblance puzzled him the more.
He scanned the faces of the courtiers nigh,
But no response e'er met his questioning eye;

1 Tradition represents King Solomon as one of the founders, and the first Grand-Master of the order of Freemasons.

None in the throng could, any more than he,
Find way to solve the artful mystery.
All the gay multitude were hushed with awe,
When they their monarch's tribulation saw;

All were o'erwhelmed with gloom and anxious doubt,

Fearing, at last, their King was put to rout.
Of what avail would be his world-wide fame,
Or what the value of the mighty name
Which he to after ages would bequeath,
When pretty woman with a tinsel wreath,
Could bring him to confusion for her sport,
And make his pride the laughter of the court?
He, sore discomfited and ill at ease,
Turns to the window,-there a swarm of bees
Hovered outside the casement; straightway he
Solution finds to his perplexity.

"Open the window!" then the King commands;
Without delay, a score of willing hands
Perform his bidding, when on buzzing wing,
The clustering swarm soon seeks the opening.
Unerring instinct guides their droning flight
In narrowing circles, until all alight
Upon the natural flowers-not one descends
Upon the wreath where art so deftly blends
Color and form to rival nature's skill;-
The stamp of nature's hand was lacking still.
Now Solomon, with all his learning, knew
The principle which certainly held true
In his time, as it also does in ours,
That any wreath or handiwork of flowers,
Howe'er it may the human sense deceive,
To make bees leave it, must be make believe!
No formal judgment need the King repeat ;—
Already the decision was complete.

Much marveled then the Queen and courtly throng,
That to one man such wisdom should belong;
Who, when his skill all human means evade,
Summons the powers of nature to his aid.

The Queen, no longer questioning from that day,
Was lost in admiration,—and some say
That feelings of a sweeter, tenderer sort
Prolonged her visit at the monarch's court.
Nor did she cease thereafter to proclaim
That all that had been told her of his fame
Which, far and near, throughout the world was
spread,

Was not the half that might with truth be said.
Theodore A. Lord.

Mining Camps.1

This book comprises a series of papers which appears to be the result of the writer's special work as 1 Mining Camps. A study in American Frontier Government. By Charles Howard Shinn. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons. For sale in San Francisco by A. L. Bancroft & Co.

a student at Johns Hopkins University. It is in the line of the investigations to which the department of history in that institution has of late given particular attention. It is a study in American local government as developed in the mining camps of California. Although it is called "a study in American Frontier